Ravage Lacey Andersen (great reads txt) 📖

“Well, I’m not going to be filling my time up here with men either.” I feel relieved for the briefest second before she continues, “Except for when I need a good lay.”

It takes effort to hide my emotions, to hide the jealousy and rage that flare to life inside of me. “So then, you’ll be focused on your classes?”

She gives a humorless laugh. “No. I don’t give a fuck about my classes. The only reason I came here…” She stops talking abruptly.

“Why did you come here, Esmeray?”

Rolling her neck, she looks to the other people in the class. “I guess we’re practicing using weapons now.”

“Esmeray--”

She stands, ignoring me as she heads for the weapons’ stand. I knew she was getting into trouble already, but I didn’t consider that she might be looking for it. We’d have to do something about that. No, Bron would have to handle that. I had no idea how to tell this woman no about anything.

I follow her to the stand and hand her a dagger, before taking my own. For a little while, we practice in front of the mirror. I show her how to hold it, how to attack in different ways and different situations, and then we go to the targets and I teach her how to throw them.

All of this is so natural to me, like breathing, but that’s expected from the child of the Luthers. My family were known as warriors, as the best of the best. We were coveted. While from the moment I was born I was taught to be the heir of our house, to not just fight, but to lead, my brothers were sought after before they could take their first step. Every father wanted his daughter to marry one of us. Every family wanted to know that if they were in danger, we would come to their aid.

Sometimes I forgot that not everyone was raised the way I was. Lucian was given the typical tutors for fighting, but I also taught him everything I knew. And while Bron learned things from me, the way his step-father had taught him to fight was not something I could replicate.

Not something I’d want to replicate.

My family was fierce, but they weren’t cruel. They didn’t glory in losing control. They didn’t enjoy scaring children. So all of my friends kept pace with me when we practiced. It was only in these classes that I was reminded that most of the fae lacked our skills.

So as I teach Esmeray, I remind myself to go slowly with her. Even though she picks up the movements as quickly as Rayne once did. And for a time, it feels like I’m not just teaching another student to fight. I’m teaching my mate to protect herself… There is no better thing a man can do. Because as much as I want to always be there for her, no one ever can. And if Rayne reminded us of anything, it’s that life is fragile and precious. Teaching her feels good. It feels right.

I’ve never felt prouder to be a man. I’ve never felt more worthy of her.

But soon she finds her own pace, and I’m no longer teaching her. I’m watching her. Frozen. Swept away by her grace, by her ferociousness. Of all the fae women I’ve helped over the years, none have felt like they could fight at my side in a battle.

Esmeray could. My beautiful, extraordinary mate.

When the professor tells us it’s time to clean up, I’m ready for a cold shower. Because I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, but watching Esmeray with a dagger is hot as fuck. I needed time to calm down and get a hold on my arousal.

We go back to the rack to put our weapons away, but Esmeray lingers, and as the other students head to the showers, I’m shocked to see her slip the dagger into the back of her shorts. What the fuck does she need with a dagger? As she heads into the showers, I watch her, my mind spinning.

This wasn’t good.

I take a quick shower and change, then wait outside of the class for her, lingering beneath the trees close to the entrance of the gym building. When she comes out, back in her dark clothes with Rayne’s bag slung across her body, I step out in front of her.

She looks surprised. “You need something?”

“Why did you take the dagger?” I ask, pinning her with my gaze.

She shrugs and tries to walk past me.

I catch her arm. “What are you doing?”

Finally, her gaze connects with mine, and there’s fire in her expression. “My brother wasn’t a moron who accidentally killed himself. Someone ended his life, and I’m going to find out who.” She jerks her arm out of my grip. “And then I’m going to kill them.”

Every muscle in my body tenses. She was already in enough danger here with her parentage and being Rayne’s sister. She didn’t need this. “No, you’re not.”

Her lip curls. “You trying to tell me what to do, big boy? Because the only time I like a man to tell me what to do is in the bedroom...when I let him.”

I can’t help but flinch at the idea of her with anyone else. “You’re not going to do this, because Rayne wasn’t murdered, he died, and you need to accept it.” The lies feel wrong, but Rayne would never forgive me if she got killed because of him.

Suddenly, she steps closer, crowding my space. “You believe that Rayne accidentally stabbed himself?”

Just the idea is stupid, but I hold her gaze. “Yeah.”

“Then, I just have to ask you… Where were you the night Rayne died?”

Shock vibrates through me. “What…what are you saying?”

“I’m saying maybe you want me to believe this asinine story because you were involved.”

It would’ve hurt less if she’d have slapped me. I rub my chest, trying to take the ache away. “How can you say that?”

She takes a step back,